


The Skysenberg Uncertainty Principle

by companionenvy



Category: Breaking Bad, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Character Study, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, POV Female Character, Post-Canon, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:01:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/companionenvy/pseuds/companionenvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That was part of it: the wanting to choose a different story. And this was the other: Why the hell not? </p><p>Companions, though Skyler could not have known it, had been formed from stranger mixtures.</p><p> </p><p>Two years post-Felina, Skyler White meets the Doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Skysenberg Uncertainty Principle

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimer: not mine, not profiting. No real spoilers for Doctor Who; as long as you know who Eleven is, you're good. Obviously, spoilers for all of Breaking Bad. Thanks for reading!

Skyler hadn't gotten to know the neighbors. This was temporary, after all, just a temporary arrangement until the scandal passed and she found a regular job. She had lost her job at the dispatcher's not long after Walt died. Legally speaking, Walt had been right to think that he was doing her a favor with that final visit: with Walt out of reach and that recorded phone call to muddy the waters in any trial, the police were willing enough to drop the threat of prosecution in return for the coordinates to Hank's body. 

In every other way, it had been a disaster. Her fragile rapprochement with Marie hadn't survived Skyler's attempt to use Hank's body as a bargaining chip. Skyler's retort that something wasn't an _attempt_ if it worked didn't mend matters. Now, their interactions were limited to arranging the logistics of the odd partial custody agreement they had worked out; Marie refused to see any reason that her relationship with Holly should be at all diminished by her refusal to speak a cordial word to her mother, and after everything, Skyler didn't have it in her to argue. 

The rest of Albuquerque took the evidence of Skyler's shrewd negotiation skills about as well as Marie did. The articles started a few days after Walt died, when the reporters realized they could milk another week or two out of the best story of the year by turning their attention to Skyler. Before, opinion on her seemed to be leaning toward idiot wife. After word of Walt's visit and the use she had put it to got out, the verdict changed to stone-cold bitch. The Blue Widow, they called her. Lady MacMeth. And the one that really caught on: Skysenberg. 

It was after that particular headline appeared that she was fired, forcing her to move to a one-room apartment in a run-down neighborhood not far from where she had lived before marrying Walt. Its size gave Flynn an excuse to stay with Marie when he visited, not that she blamed him. He didn't have to visit at all. 

No, Skyler hadn't gotten to know the neighbors, not that they would have wanted anything to do with her now. She wouldn't have wanted to do much with most of them under any circumstances: she wouldn't be surprised, from the glazed eyes and twitchy manner, if some of them had intimate experience with a particular strain of blue meth. Still, she did notice when they began _disappearing_. The first thing that hit her was the quiet. Fewer parties. Fewer fights. Fewer sirens. Then, it was the flowers. A few of the less hopeless tenants had adorned their windowsills with some flower-pots, but looking up one day on her way to pick Holly up from school, she saw that all of them were shriveled. Not impossible, in this weather, but still odd.

She thought of explanations. No surprise if some junkies went missing. Maybe they'd found an even deadlier supplier than Walt. And she'd bet anything that there were a fair number of illegals living there. A raid, then. A raid, plus a few evictions, an arrest here and an OD there – that would do it. But all within a few weeks? Unlikely. It wasn't everyone; she still saw several familiar faces around: the kid who always walked with his face to the floor, the old man with the walker, the woman who carried her infant around in a Baby Bjorn. Even so, their ranks had, quite obviously, diminished. If any of the other remaining tenants had their own theories, they hadn't shared them with Skyler. Of course they hadn't; nobody _spoke_ to Skyler.

Which is why she was so surprised, one day, when a man's voice called out to her as she walked into the building. She had missed whatever it was he said, and turned around. He spoke again.

What are you doing here?

That was less surprising. Only, the words didn't sound accusatory, just curious. And they were said in an English accent. And the young man who said them was wearing a totally age, weather _and_ decade inappropriate tweed jacket, suspenders, and bow-tie get up. She stared. Make that half-century inappropriate.

“That's a long story,” said Skyler finally, not inviting further discussion.

No, said the man. I mean, literally, how are you here?

I live here, said Skyler. 

Yes I know, he said. That's what I don't understand. You couldn't have moved in after, because the super was gone by then and so who would have given you the key? You regularly use the front door of the building. Are you blind? Again, he sounded sincerely curious, despite the absurdity of the question.

I'm looking right at you, she noted. 

Of course, he pressed on, not at all abashed. But that wouldn't necessarily prove anything depending on where you're from, I mean on Celexia, for instance..... He broke off, having apparently found whatever he had been rummaging for in his pocket. 

The object he drew out looked like a pen. Skyler stepped back as he pointed it at her.

What are you -

You're _human_ , though, he said. Regular, wonderful old Earth human. Then why - again, he stopped, looking down at the pen. When he looked up, his face was suddenly serious. It was startling how much older it made him look.

We need to talk.

Are you breaking up with me? Skyler asked, deadpan. The man looked at her blankly. Skyler wasn't sure why she hadn't already left. Part of it was something she would once have been able to explain to Marie, that childish sense that you were special, and meant to be involved in mysterious and wonderful things, that things were supposed to _happen_ to you at all. But she and Marie had never considered that those things that happened to you, that made you part of a grand and dramatic story, might not be wonderful at all. Or the great secret – one she knew now, but could never have told Marie – that they could be terrible, and you might love it anyway. _I did it because I liked it_ , was what Walt had said. _For a while, I liked it too_ , was what Skyler hadn't.

That was part of it: the wanting to choose a different story. And this was the other: Why the fuck not? 

Companions, though Skyler could not have known it, had been formed from stranger mixtures.

*****

It didn't make sense. Well, of course, none of it made sense, starting with the fact that the man (the Doctor, he called himself) claimed to be an alien, and was operating under the working theory that her neighbors had been transported in time by the ridiculously tacky stone angel perched just above the building's front entrance. But, her neighbors _had_ gone missing, and Skyler was willing to play along. 

Specifically, what didn't make sense was, why not _her_? Once the Doctor had explained the rules to her, some of the other stragglers made sense immediately. The old man was in a wheelchair, and used the ramp in the back of the building. He never went through the front door. The sullen kid must never have looked at it directly, walking, a he did, face-down. That left her, and the woman with the baby. And, of course, Holly. Unless...

Is it because I'm a mother?

No, said the Doctor. He was pacing around her apartment, hands clasped behind him. He didn't have much room to do it in. Somehow, the apartment seemed much smaller with him in it, even though he was shorter than Flynn, who had been in here with her and Holly without producing the same effect. Not unless you never went in and out without your daughter. That angel is dead now and he was dying then, so weak he couldn't have coped with a child. Too many potential futures; it's like being at a Christmas dinner and not knowing what to eat. But you...

He sat down on the chair opposite, staring at her, unblinking, as if she, too, were a weeping angel, who turned deadly the moment her prey looked away.

I'm sorry, Skyler. I'm so, so sorry, but you simply weren't worth it.

Skyler stared back at him. Get out, she said. Her voice was still quiet. As quiet as it had been when she asked Walt to murder Jesse Pinkman. 

The Doctor didn't move. I didn't mean it like that! he said quickly. And then, before she could say any more, It takes energy to displace someone in time. Just not nearly as much as the angels steal from their victims. But if someone didn't have much life left to lose - he stopped. I'm sorry.

Skyler flashed back to that day, so long ago now, when Walt told her that he had cancer. Am I sick? she asked.

No, said the Doctor. I scanned you. You're fine. I don't know how it happens, or when. But with most people, there are possibilities swirling around them. For you, just... a _void_.

 _That doesn't mean I die_ , thought Skyler. It seemed not to have occurred to the Doctor that there could be another reason that someone's possibilities would be so limited. 

Why are you telling me? she asked.

Why? said the Doctor. Because – because you have the right to know! In case there are, you know, arrangements you want to – 

And it didn't occur to you, said Skyler, slowly, that maybe I don't _want_ to know? That if you're not going to do any more than say sorry, there's no reason for you to be here?

I'm sorry, the Doctor said automatically, and then seemed to realize what he had done. He stood up, resuming his circuit around the too-small room. But there is one thing I could do.

Skyler waited. You could come with me, he said at last. It might not do anything. Probably, it wouldn't. But every reading has just a smidge of uncertainty. Your future isn't fixed. Not quite. A sharp change in your timeline, something totally unexpected – well, it might do it. And it's a time machine, remember. I could get you back here before anyone would miss you. Well. More or less.

She thought about it. It wasn't the most convincing of pitches. He wasn't promising anything, and the way he said more or less gave Skyler the strong sense that if she left with him, it might very well be for good. After everything else, she couldn't do that to Holly and Flynn. 

_I could get you back here before anyone would miss you_. But would they, really? It would be far better for Holly if Skyler didn't pick her up from Marie's, where she was spending the weekend, and far better for Marie. Flynn would grieve, but in the end he, too, would be happier freed from the duty of his grim, guilty mother. She might die if she stayed here. And if not, what did it say about her life that in a building full of junkies and deadbeats, it was _Skyler_ who didn't have any future worth mentioning? 

A smidge of uncertainty, she repeated. That isn't very much. And you and the angel both saw the same thing. So it would be very unlikely, wouldn't it?

Almost impossible, the Doctor said, and smiled. But then, so am I.

*****

The Doctor was downright chagrined when her first choice of destination was Venice.

But you could go to Venice anytime! The TARDIS isn't an _airplane_.

You saw my apartment. I was never getting to Venice, even if you hadn't just told me my lifeline was shorter than a Mayfly's.

Well, if its going to be Venice, could we at least do Renaissance Venice? Or 32nd century? The canals flood; it's brilliant.

You said it was my choice. I'm choosing. But check the weather. I wouldn't mind if you picked a nice day.

Apparently, nicer days weren't coming for another few years, because the Doctor landed them in 2019. Flynn would be out of college by then, and Holly would be eight, old enough to start asking questions that Skyler didn't want to answer. But Skyler wouldn't be around, would she? She hoped Marie would be charitable, but Skyler had always been the better storyteller of the two. 

It was hard, though, to think about the future – her own, that is, since she was, she reminded herself, already _in_ the future – when you were in Venice, floating down a canal on a lovely spring day. They were in a canal, the Doctor punting, and keeping up a steady stream of chatter about the time he had met Marco Polo. 

Abruptly, the story stopped. Skyler, he said quietly. Don't turn around.

She looked. A great, reptilian monster was lurching out of the water, making its way toward them.

I said _not_ to turn around!

Did you think that was going to work?

Well, it's bound to one of these days!

Can you kill it?

I don't want to _kill_ it, said the Doctor, scandalized.  The Sea Devils are a noble, sentient race. Yes, we've had our differences in the past but that's no reason to assume-

The Sea Devil roared. Doctor! Enemy of my kind! We will avenge our brothers! Skyler could dimly see several more large shapes poised to emerge from the sea. 

Can we assume now?

Don't _snark_ at me, run! I mean, row!

So Skyler rowed for her life. _So much for relaxing_ , she thought, but this time she couldn't really pretend, even to herself, that she wasn't enjoying it. 

****

What do we say? said Skyler, holding the sonic screwdriver over her head. She'd just negotiated the Doctor's release from prison on a planet named Solaria, where he had managed to insult the ruler. Given that the ruler had a habit of throwing his enemies into something called The Fire Pits of Doom, Skyler thought the insult was both well-deserved and poorly thought out. Lucky Skyler had been along, really. She was going to enjoy this; it wasn't the first time she had saved the Doctor, but it was, if she said so herself, her best effort.

Thank you, said the Doctor, grudgingly. Although really, I had a plan.

Not a very good one, if I had to bail you out. To be fair, he had to bail her out often enough as well, but Skyler wasn't going to let that get in the way of a good gloat.

So how did _you_ do it?

Skyler's smile grew, if possible, even smugger. “I convinced him that I was a goddess.”

How did you do that? asked the Doctor.

I told him that there would be a rebellion in his harem if he refused to release you.

And? He couldn't have bought that.

Oh no, of course not. He refused, and I fomented a rebellion in his harem. Discreetly. She savored his dumbfounded look for a moment, and added Apparently, this persuaded the king that I must be an incarnation of Leshka, the yellow-haired goddess of revenge.

Didn't happen to think of getting him to release some of the other prisoners while you were at it, did you? asked the Doctor. 

No, said Skyler. I thought it was only fair to leave _something_ for you to do.

Several hours later, when they were back in the TARDIS after freeing the prisoners and toppling the government, the Doctor said, Wait for Skyler to save me.

What? said Skyler, confused. 

Wait for Skyler to save me. That was my plan.

Glad it worked, said Skyler, and hoped the Doctor hadn't heard the catch in her voice as she said it.

*****

Skyler couldn't say, after a while, which days she like best, the ones with monsters and battles and rescues, or the quieter ones, where the Doctor took her to places like the gem-fields of Arbela and the ice palaces of Monteran, and no enemies disturbed her wonder. If she had met the Doctor three years earlier, or five, and Walt had seen these things, too, would it have made a difference, she sometimes asked herself, or would he have just seen it all as more empires to claim? 

There were bad days too, of course, when the victories were almost pyrrhic, won with a trail of bodies in their wake. Skyler vomited the first time she saw the mangled corpse of someone who had only been trying to help. The Doctor thought it was a sign of her innocence. Skyler knew better. But even on those days, there were the ones you saved, the ones Skyler herself had saved. There was the first time, too, that Skyler put herself in deadly danger for the sake of another and a time, eventually, when she stopped asking herself after each one if it was enough to make up for Hank and Andrea Cantillo and Drew Sharp and all the others that would have lived if she had been a tenth as brave back then.

But then, one day on Poliria, it all started to go wrong. The Doctor was trying to work out a peaceful solution to an ethnic conflict between two warring races. It wasn't going well, but at least, the Doctor said, they were talking. In the middle of a negotiation session, one of the rebel leaders motioned to Skyler, and she followed him outside.

How long have you been on Poliria?

Two days, said Skyler.

Two days, he repeated. And your friend thinks he can bring justice. Let me tell you something about justice.

He told her, in unbearable detail, what the ruling party had done to his people. The executions for minor infractions. The children they had slaughtered. His own daughter, killed as a punishment for her father's dissent. Debtors taken as slaves by the Emperor, forced to pull his coach like beasts of burden. 

There can be no peace with such a man, he said. And if there could be, it would not be justice.

The second-in-command was a rebel spy, he told her, ready to take over the government when the Emperor was dead. Only he couldn't be the assassin. None of them could, he said, lest it failed, and the Emperor have the pretext he had been waiting for to turn terror into full-blown genocide. It needed to come from an outsider. She was only a woman; no one had bothered to search her for weapons. They would see to it that she and the Doctor escaped. 

I need some time, said Skyler.

Don't take too much, said the man.

That night, Skyler asked the Doctor if it was true, what the man had told her about the Emperor. 

Yes, said the Doctor. There was blame enough on both sides before, but he's taken it to a different level.

And you think you can make a deal with him?

Killers have made peace before. I think if I can convince him that things will be better off for him, in the end, if he signs the treaty, it might work.

And if it doesn't?

We'll find another way.

_And how many people will die in finding it_? thought Skyler. She would give the Doctor a chance, she decided. She would give him a chance, but if the negotiations didn't work, she would be ready. It would be like killing Hitler, she told herself.

The next day, the Emperor announced that he would not be signing the treaty, and Skyler, who had been standing right behind him for the purpose, put a bullet through his head. 

The Doctor didn't shout. He didn't even question her, as they ran back to the TARDIS. But once inside, he turned to her, and his eyes were as alien as she had ever seen them.

That was murder.

I did what I had to. What you've done before. Had he forgotten that she had seen what he had done to the Daleks?

That was different. There was a direct danger. I had no choice.

And you didn't have to get your hands dirty, is what you mean, Skyler retorted. How long do you think the Solarians kept their Emperor alive after we left? And who else has to die because of a line you decide to draw?

The Doctor got very close to her. Drawing lines is what separates me from them, he said. Sometimes it makes things better. Sometimes it makes it worse. I can't know that. I can only know that some things should never, ever be done.

And now you know something else, said Skyler. You know me.

*****  
Things were different, after that. The Doctor didn't take her home, as Skyler had expected, although he did warn her that he would if she ever killed in any but direct defense of herself or another again. By the next morning, he seemed to have forgiven her, but things were strained. She always felt that he was watching her, waiting for her to show that side of herself once more. She wasn't sorry for what she had done, but she knew it came from the same dark place that had allowed her, once, to enjoy the rewards of many less justifiable things, and to commit a few herself. The Doctor hadn't seen that part of her, before. It was one of the reasons she loved him. 

Time had no meaning on the TARDIS, but Skyler thought it must have been close to a month later – and close to a year after she had begun traveling with him - that he took her to a party at the royal court of Denmark in 1927. Skyler didn't much care for the thought of embarrassing herself trying to dance up to the standards of the day, but the Doctor wanted to go, for some reason, and she wasn't about to argue the point. 

To her surprise, she enjoyed herself. Skyler hadn't heard of most of the supposedly prominent people being honored, but it turned out that the physicist Niels Bohr, who knew the Doctor somehow, was an excellent dancer, and enough of a gentleman not to comment on her own skills. It had been too long, she thought, since she had felt like this, desired and desirable, and she wondered whether there was a 1920s way of asking a person if he would like to take this someplace more private. 

They stopped for drinks, and a young man approached with the Doctor. 

Werner! said Bohr, I see you, too, have found a companion, although not one, if I may say, so charming as mine. Miss Lambert, he continued, turning to Skyler, may I present to you my assistant, the young scholar from Germany whose work you have perhaps already begun to hear something about, Werner Heisenberg!

Skyler ran. 

*****  
It couldn't be a coincidence. He knew. He had to have known. He had been suspicious, so suspicious since that day on Poliria, and he had decided to look up her history. Had he learned it that night, and been toying with her ever since, or had his curiosity finally got the better of him only yesterday? 

She went back to the TARDIS, because where else was there? She half expected him to have changed the locks, but her key still worked. Very soon after, the door opened again.

You've made Niels very unhappy, said the Doctor.

You son of a bitch, said Skyler. Was that supposed to be a joke?

No, he said, and Skyler was surprised to see that he honestly looked confused. I suppose maybe it was a tad dramatic, but I thought you'd be _relieved_.

To know I had finally been caught, you mean? How long have you known?

The Doctor's expression cleared, as if he had finally understood. That's the point, Skyler, he said. I've known since the first night I met you.

Skyler stared. That's impossible, she said. You never would have traveled with me, if you had known.

But I did know, said the Doctor. I wondered when I saw your apartment. You'd lived better before, that was obvious from some of the older furniture and trinkets. There were pictures of your son and daughter, and a few of them with you, but none of their father, even though you had been with him at least long enough to have two children many years apart but both named, not Lambert, as you had introduced yourself, but White, obviously after him – diploma on the wall and doctor's visit report on the table, he added, anticipating Skyler's question of how he knew their names at all. Something had happened, and I wanted to know what it was.

Then why did you let me stay?

Because you didn't take the money, he said. I read the articles, Skyler, but there were some things not in the papers, things easy enough to track down, if you know where to look and have all of time and space to do it in. Bank records, for instance. Your son is a very wealthy man. He thinks it was charity from Gretchen and Eliot Schwartz, his father's old friends, but you know better, because your daughter is a very wealthy little girl, and until she's of age, it's your account as well. Now, Gretchen and Eliot are clever. They could have arranged it so that the money was Holly's in trust and you couldn't touch it at all, but they didn't do that, and you knew why, because you're cleverer: they wanted to get rid of that money, as soon as they were able. Which meant it wasn't their money at all.

I didn't refuse it, said Skyler. I didn't tell Flynn where it came from. I wasn't planning on telling Holly.

Of course not, because you couldn't do that to them. They're your children. As long as they don't know, they're doing no wrong if they keep it, and have no reason not to. But most mothers, even good ones, who knew that the money was intended for their daughter, as the other half of it had been for their son, would have cheated a little. It wouldn't even have been cheating, really, because getting, at the very least, a nicer apartment would have helped Holly, too. Doesn't she deserve that, whether or not you do? But there were five million dollars in that account on the day you got it, and there are five million dollars in it now, give or take some interest. So what does that make you?

A hypocrite, said Skyler. There was no point trying to hide it any longer. I knew where Walt's money came from, but I didn't care until Hank caught us. The car wash was my idea. So was telling my husband to kill his partner when he threatened my family.

The Doctor couldn't have known all of this, but he must have guessed some of it, because he didn't look shocked, or disgusted. Instead, he said And you should never forgive yourself for it. That doesn't mean you can't be forgiven.

I killed someone three weeks ago.

Which I still think was wrong. But I've met better men than I am who might disagree. Your husband isn't the only man ever to put you in an impossible situation.

Skyler took a breath. It would be so easy, now, to let it rest, to go off on another adventure with him, knowing that he still cared for her, knowing that it could be like it was before, or better, since now she knew their time together wasn't based on a lie. But he had given her all he could; now it was her turn.

Doctor, she said, I think it's time for me to go home.

He smiled at her, a little sadly, she thought, but, proudly, too. Skyler Lambert, he said, kissing her on the cheek, It has been my pleasure to know you.

*****  
She asked him if they could make one last trip before going back to Albuquerque. Or, rather, two. 

He warned her that she could not, under any circumstances, try to do anything more than what they had discussed. That even that might not work. That even if it did, her sister would never know she had done it.

_But I'll know_ said Skyler, and he had agreed. 

Their first trip was to 1983. Friday night at the Triton High football field right after the game had ended. Unless Hank had changed more than most people did between fifteen and twenty-six, the age he had been when Skyler had first met him, he would be there. Since he was fifteen, he would probably be doing something that would give them a pretext. And, sure enough, there he was, wearing a jersey, a beer in one hand and a cigarette that Skyler suspected did _not_ contain tobacco between his lips. 

The Doctor stepped forward.  Hank Schrader, he said portentously. If you would come with me, please. The rest of you, if you don't want to come with him, clear off.

Hank made a motion as if he would have run after his friends, but the Doctor stopped him. None of that, he said. It'll go worse for you if you do. He flashed his psychic paper, identifying him as John Smith, police captain. 

How do you know my name? said Hank. He clearly intended the words as a challenge, but his bravado was already flagging. 

I've had my eye on you, Schrader said the Doctor. Now come along, and maybe we can settle this without getting anyone's parents involved.

They walked in silence to the TARDIS, now disguised as a police cruiser. Skyler had even gotten the Doctor to admit, after some pressing, that he could stop the ship from making that sound she always made if he wanted to. When they got in, the Doctor turned to Hank. 

I'm going to give you two choices, he said. One I write you up for underage drinking, possession of a controlled substance and lewd behavior \- Skyler hadn't, thank goodness, seen Hank doing anything particularly lewd, but Hank's blush told her that the Doctor's guess had been on the mark - and you don't play another football game this year. More than one year, maybe, if your mother isn't as forgiving as your coach.

And the second? asked Hank when the Doctor paused. 

You help me with a little project I've been working on. Call it community service. You'll be home by morning.

What kind of project? asked Hank suspiciously. 

So the Doctor told him, as they drove, spinning some story about a mining magnate who'd been selling precious metals on the black market. The feds get there tomorrow, but in the meantime, last chance for the local boys to get some of the good stuff. I could use a hand collecting it. A _quiet_ hand, if you know what I mean.

It was quite clear that Hank didn't. Skyler wondered why Hank, who had always been smarter than most people had given him credit for, didn't question why this police captain was both obviously British and speaking like a crooked cop in a noir film from the 40s, but she supposed that being scared, and high, and fifteen, could do a lot to suppress your natural intelligence. 

After a few minutes, they reached the mouth of the cave that they had agreed would be a good cover. Hank would think they were going in, not knowing that when the Doctor changed gears, he had set their course for the planet of Arbela and its famous gem-fields. 

Just before they got there, the Doctor said,  Who knows, Schrader? You might even enjoy it.

Yeah, like I'm going to get all excited about a bunch of rocks.

Minerals, said Skyler softly. 

***** 

Hank couldn't speak. There were mountains of stones, mountains and valleys, as common in this landscape as blades of grass were everywhere else. Hank knew that he should be asking how it was possible, how there could be birds flying here, and trees, also bejeweled, gems hanging down where fruit should have been, and rivers. But he felt, somehow, though he couldn't have found the words for it – and wouldn't have even if he had been older than he was, even if he had lived to be the old man he couldn't know, now, that he would never be, for Hank Schrader was never the most poetic of men – that to ask would be a profanation. 

Can I touch them? he asked, finally. 

Of course, the policeman said, although Hank was quite sure, now, that the man wasn't a policeman at all. Still, he produced a set of tools, and showed him how to get at the gems without tarnishing them, how to know when to dig deeper and when to hold back. They spent what seemed like hours there, walking through fields and fields of different colors, sometimes stopping to collect some stones as they went. Finally the man stopped in the middle of what looked like it must be miles of the deepest purple. 

But it wasn't the man who next spoke. The woman hadn't said much, staying in the background, almost as if she was trying to avoid his sight. The man had introduced her, briefly, as his assistant, and told Hank he was to pay her no mind. As the woman looked at least his mother's age, from the glimpses he had seen, Hank hadn't found the instruction hard to follow. But now she stepped forward. 

The stone is called amethyst, she said. Have you collected any? He nodded, pointing to the small bag at his side. The man had said that they would be leaving the stones they collected in a hidden spot he had picked out, and that Hank wasn't to look for them again. The woman took out a small piece of the purple stone. She held it to her neck for a moment and, seemingly satisfied, held it out to him. 

This one is yours, she said. One day, when you've forgotten me, and most of tonight – he almost broke in to protest, but she silenced him with a look – you'll remember enough to know what to do with it, and who it belongs to.

Hank was confused, because the woman had just said, hadn't she, that it belonged to _him_ , but he took the stone and put it in his pocket. 

The next morning, he woke with a vague sense that he was forgetting something. Visions ran through his head, of bright colors and jagged edges, but he couldn't place them. Pot did weird things to you, he guessed. At school, his friends asked him about the cop, and more images came to him – a car ride, a cave, a woman and a man – but he just told them he had talked his way out of it, and moved on. 

But not without a sensitivity, in certain rare moments, to a different kind of beauty and wonder in the world, of something that shouldn't be laughed at, or mocked, of something better than money or beer or even sex. He couldn't name it, but, at those times, he felt it. 

A week later, he felt something heavy in the pocket of his jeans. He drew out a purple rock. No, not a rock, his mind produced, he couldn't have said from where. A _mineral_. 

***** 

Skyler went home right after they dropped off Hank. 

It's the right day, said the Doctor, checking some readings. He looked at her, and Skyler was reminded of the first day they had met, when he stared at her so intently. Do you want me to check on … the other thing? he asked. 

They had avoided mentioning it, but it was now or never. Had her timeline been altered by the past year? Were there new possibilities before her, or would the Doctor see, as he had before, a void? Although, Skyler thought, he had always seen more than that in her. She made her decision. 

No, she said. But thanks for asking. With one last smile, she walked out of the TARDIS 

Only she wasn't home, not quite and, unless she was mistaken, it wasn't the _same_ day, but the next one. The right one. It was Sunday night, and she was at her sister's house, to pick up Holly, as they had planned. 

She rang the bell. When Marie answered it, she was wearing an amethyst on a chain around her neck. 


End file.
